


And So, We Fight

by Fishsoop



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Barely edited tbh akldjfksdj, Character Death, Hermitshipping, I want this to be comedic kinda!, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Beta Read, Past Character Death, Shipping, Temporary Character Death, Watcher Grian AU, Watchers, any shipping is between fictional characters based off of the hermits. dont ship real people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishsoop/pseuds/Fishsoop
Summary: Grian wakes up with a godly message from the Watchers.“Come back to us,” they say. “We have a new super-fast wifi plan in the Tower you’re gonna be locked in.”Grian wipes the drool off of his chin, looks out of his base’s entrance, and considers death by kinetic energy.
Relationships: Background Grian/Mumbo/Iskall, background grian/ex, background polytechs
Comments: 26
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> There's a million and one Watcher Grian AUs out there, but I like my OCs (which may or may not appear in this) so ! im making another one bitches i cannot be stopped 
> 
> This may or may not be updated, ever! I'm not a writer, I just wanted to get my idea onto paper ahaha.

Grian wakes up one day with a piece of crumpled paper under his head. He smooths it out, makes out through bleary eyes what it says. 

He snorts. Chuckles. Does a ha ha. 

He messages his neighbor. 

**eggscellent, :** MUMBO I NEED. HELP 

**spoon boy :** please dont tell me youve broken some other redstone project ive spent ages on

**spoon boy :** please

**< eggscellent,> changed their name to <eg>**

**eg :** no its like, edgy backstory issues

**spoon boy :** thats even worse. 

**eg :** please mumbo dearest. I am just, a helpless worm in the face of your mighty problem 

solving skills. please. 

**spoon boy :** your the one with a detective alter ego 

**spoon boy :** but ok. omw

**eg :** ok thanks sksksskssksk

**eg :** oop wait dont open your closet 

-

Mumbo arrives covered in chicken feathers, a murderous glint in his eyes.

\- 

A quick breakfast of chicken omelette (mumbo had insisted, and dumped an inventory’s worth of raw chicken and eggs onto grian’s small kitchen counter) later, the two were crouched over the paper in the middle of Grian’s base like two boys poking at an interesting bug they found. 

Mumbo yawned, and prodded at it. 

“So, what’sit say? Looks like galactic to me.” 

Grian flushed, and, eyes wide, stammered,

“Oh! Right- I should have known- Of course you can’t-” 

Powering through Mumbo’s judging gaze, he crumpled the paper up and threw it into the mess of shulker boxes behind him.

“So, it’s a- uh…” Grian fumbled with his hands. 

“It’s a booty call from the Watchers.”

Mumbo blinked.

“The watchers? The  _ three all-powerful gods that ultimately control every server in a hundred billion block radius?” _

Grian winces. 

“Yeah. Yeah! Except, well, there’s only two of them now-” 

“ _ What _ ?” 

The blonde offers a strained chuckle.

“I was one of them?” 

Mumbo runs a hand through his hair and groans.

He wishes he’d put his phone on silent.

-

They end up meeting with Xisuma (“ _ Actually” _ , Grian protests, “ _ I’m _ quite in favor of forgetting this!” Mumbo simply sent his message to X, ignoring Grian’s childish collapse onto the concrete floor), and when X hears the news, his face goes so white Grian can see the pure purple tint of his visor. 

X grabs Grian by the shoulders, and shakes the shorter like he’s trying to rattle some sense into his brain (something Mumbo, who stood behind the two, shook his head at- he had long since given up, and was resigned to a chicken-cursed existence). 

“Do you know what this  _ means _ ?” X yelps, and Grian frowns in some genuine worry. 

“...Not really? I mean, it can’t be anything good…” 

X looks like he’s on the verge of having a breakdown. Somewhere in the back of Grian’s mind, he worries for the elder’s blood pressure. 

“They’re going to destroy the server. They’ll permadeath us all. We’ll just be collateral damage, to get you back. We, we gotta... “ he breaks off, muttering. 

“Ah,” Grian manages. 

The admin heaves a heavy sigh and pats Grian’s head like he’s a particularly troublesome puppy, pulling out his phone to summon a server-wide meeting. 

Grian feels like dirt. 

-

There are  _ so many people. _

Twenty? More?

Grian didn’t even know there were this many members on the server. So many he may be dooming by escaping the watchers. His skin crawls with guilt.

TFC, Joe… Even Ex is here, though he’s preoccupied with snacking, dropping Chex Mix through his open visor and trying to get it to land in his mouth.

It’s really pathetic, actually, and he feels a bit better about his predicament.

They’re all seated around this big oval quartz table, somewhere deep under the stock exchange. Bedrock level, probably. The room’s white and bland, lit up by sea lanterns, and he wrinkles his nose in distaste.

He’d tried to suggest they use Sahara’s meeting room instead; Iskall had nearly snapped him in half like a Kit-Kat.

_ “We are  _ not _ going to let ConCorp onto Sahara property!” _ The Swede had hissed into Grian’s ear, and looking at Iskall’s steel-toed boots… Even now, Grian felt inclined to agree with him.

Grian puts his boots on the table like an angsty teenager, and tries to pretend he’s just anyone else here.

He waits for Xisuma to gather his thoughts and start. 

-

“Listen up,  _ worms _ !” Ex yells and bangs his fist on the smooth marble in front of him, open Chex Mix bag forgotten perilously close to the edge of the table. Grian pulls down his feet, everybody quiets, and silence envelops the cool white room.

Well, near-silence, anyway. Xisuma’s helmet filters are, like, really loud. Ex doesn’t have his helmet on at all anymore.

Xisuma stands up, and places a hand on Ex’s shoulder.

“No calling Hermits worms, ‘Musa.” 

Ex rolls his eyes. 

“Okay,  _ mom _ .”

Grian is hooked onto Xisuma’s answering flinch like a middle-aged housewife onto  _ Friends,  _ and he wonders what the leader’s government-assigned edgy backstory is. 

Xisuma gestures for Grian to speak, and he gulps. He had hoped that X was going to do the talking. Apparently not. He clears his throat. 

“So! Hermits,” he starts, and finds himself at a loss for words. How to tell twenty people you’re probably gonna be responsible for their destruction?

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here.” He pauses for maybe half a minute.

Doc raises a hand, and doesn’t wait for Xisuma to call on him before he speaks out. 

“Get to the point!”

Doc is super tall and intimidating and good with a trident, so he does.

“I’ve been summoned by the Watchers. There’s only two of them now, and I was the third; they want me back. I imagine they finally found out where I escaped to, and don’t want to waste all the training they gave me.” 

There’s silence for a moment. False doesn’t even bother raising a hand.

“The watchers? The  _ three all-powerful gods that-”  _

“ _ Yes _ , them! Two! Mumbo’s been over it already!” Grian snaps, and ignores his best friend’s glare.

“They’re coming! I have three days! They’re coming and there’s  _ nothing _ we can do! If I leave, they’ll destroy the place anyway! I’m sorry, okay?  _ I’m so sorry _ !”

He sits back down heavily in his chair, breathing heavily, and tries to burn a hole into the sleek quartz table in front of him with his stare. He won’t cry in front of the others. He won’t.

Xisuma, seeing the Hermits itching to discuss plans, sighs and sits down too, allowing everyone to talk to each other. The silence in the room immediately dissolves into hushed conversations. 

Well, except for Ex. He has a pile of Chex Mix in front of him, and seems to be testing…  _ something _ with them. 

Grian is still trying to get his breathing steady when he feels a nudge on his left. Lifting his head, he meets Bdub’s eyes. 

“Hey. we’re still dragon bros, right?” Bdubs asks, and though Demise has been over for a month now, Grian nods, wondering where this is coming from. Bdubs gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, smiles at him. 

“Dragon bros don’t let dragon bros blame themselves for getting outta bad situations.” 

Grian chokes up as he bro-fists the bro-fist Bdubs extends.

“Thanks,” He whispers, and Bdubs lets out a chuckle. Cleo, on the other’s left, is not to be outdone- she practically pushes Bubs away (gently) to look Grian in the eye. 

“And we’re G Team-mates. We defend each other, no matter what.” 

Grian, caught up in the intense green of her eyes, nods absently but furiously. 

“No matter what,” he repeats, and Gleo grins at him, mouth full of sharp zombie teeth. 

From his right, Mumbo, the tall spoon, ruffles his hair, and Iskall shoots him a supportive thumbs-up. 

He might actually cry. 

That is, until a piece of Chex-Mix flies across the table and hits him right in an eye. When he’s done checking for blindness, he glares at Ex, who smirks at him, a softness in his eyes.  _ Lighten up _ , he mouths at Grian. What a prick. Looking around the room, he can see others catching his eye, shooting smiles at him.

He feels a lot better, now.

-

Xisuma stands up, and Ex bangs his fist on the table again. Grian watches the Chex Mix bag as it teeters on the edge of the table, but doesn’t quite fall over. 

“Silence,  _ infants _ !” Ex barks. The room quiets. Xisuma shoots him a disappointed look, recognizable even behind his helmet. 

“‘Musa…” X chides. Ex just shrugs, and puts his heavy, dirt-caked boots back on the table, crossing his legs. To the clone’s right, Tango wrinkles his nose and shifts his chair further away from him. X makes a motion to pinch the bridge of his nose, aborted when he realizes he’s still got his helmet on.

“Well, that was a fantastic bit of brainstorming there. Does anyone have any ideas?” X prompts. 

Several people raise their hands, including Ex. 

“ _ Good _ ideas.” Ex lowers his hand as his face morphs into a deep scowl. Xisuma points to Zedaph, but before the sheep-man says a word, Ex lets out the largest, most insolent snort Grian’s ever heard.

“Really?  _ Him _ ?” Ignoring Zedaph’s offended glare, Ex barrels on. 

“What’d we need to  _ brainstorm _ for? I mean- there’s a hermit in trouble! We’ve gotta protect our own! Isn’t it obvious?” 

Xisuma’s glare is cold, and as he steps forward to tower over Ex, Grian swears he can feel the temperature of the room drop by a few degrees. 

“Obviously  _ not _ , Ev- Ximusa.” Ex narrows his eyes at the slip, bringing his feet off the table slowly. He returns an equally charged glare.

“But  _ please _ , share. I’m sure we’d all like to hear.” Xisuma’s voice is dangerously soft. 

Ximusa leaps up, shoving his face in the original’s. Xisuma backs away, startled, his face a picture of shock. 

Ex leans forward much like the other had done to him moments before, lip curled in anger. 

“We  _ fight _ !” he yells, and bangs his fist on the table again.

The Chex Mix bag falls off the table.

And just like that, the tension is broken. Ex lunges for the falling bag with a (very manly) shriek, but he’s too late; the bag is on the floor, and so is his Chex Mix. He lets out the nastiest string of curses Grian has ever heard.

Ignoring Ex’s grieving sobs, Xisuma sits in a chair wearily. Behind the glass of his visor, his face seems apologetic. 

“While that was… very  _ touching _ ,” he starts, voice dry, “There’s no way all of us can take on one, nevermind  _ two _ Watchers. The  _ three all-powerful g-”  _

Grian silences him with a Look.

“Really?” Ex asks disbelievingly from where he’s sitting, cross-legged, under the table. He seems to have resigned himself to morosely eating Chex Mix off the polished quartz floor.

“We’ve got Doc and Wels and False, though. Plus Tango’s demon and our Void powers…” 

  
X shakes his head, though many of the other Hermits look excited at the idea of such a challenge. 

“No way. No. Even if we somehow win, we’d definitely lose someone along the way.” 

Everyone sobers at that. Xisuma continues. 

“We’ve got to come up with something else. There’s no possible way we can get enough firepower to  _ consider _ fighting the Watchers.” 

Grian’s mouth runs dry. Dry as Sahara’s top-quality saAand. Shop at Sahara!

“...Actually, there is,” he states quietly. 

All eyes are on him. 

“But none of you are going to like it.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AaaaAAA thank you for all of your nice comments! It's because of all of you that I wrote a second chapter! Again- I'm not a writer, and who's pacing? Never heard of them. Didn't expect to take a week to upload another chapter, but oh well! :)

Grian drums his fingers on the small table in front of him as he sips from a teacup, and notes with horrified revulsion that the tea has gone cold; Xisuma and him have been chatting for far too long. The air is chilly around him, the bedrock-level room close enough to the Void to allow X to remove his helmet. 

  
Across from him, Xisuma messes idly with a strand of hair that’s fallen into his face.

“I need to bring a team with me into the Deep End. Please,” Grian asks. He’s discussed where he’s going to go, and needs to know who’s allowed to travel with him. Xisuma frowns, and rubs his face tiredly.

“Well, seeing as you have to get to the True Nether in order to even tell anyone your _actual_ plan, I’m sorry. I’ve got to keep most of the hermits here in case the Watchers choose to attack. We’ve gotta prepare- supplies for fighting, contacts for running...” He trails off.

There’s very little even an entire server’s worth of people can do against a Watcher, but Grian stays silent. He’s sure Xisuma knows. 

“I won’t need many. We’re just going to find someone.” He has to be careful with how vaguely he explains his plan while still inside the Hermitcraft server’s bounds. With the Watchers being almost all-knowing (and certainly spying on them right now), the price they would all pay if they caught on was far too high. Xisuma taps absently on the helmet his hand has been resting on, looking as if he’s considering his options. 

“Five people. Including you.” 

Grian nods. For a server of twenty people, that was generous. 

“Let’s see… you  _ will  _ be going through the True Nether, right?” 

Grian nods again. One block in the True Nether equals eight blocks in the Overworld, and every block in the overworld equals eight blocks in the Deep End- meaning that every block he travels in the True Nether equals sixty-four blocks in the Deep End. It was the only way he could reasonably get to who he hoped would help him. 

An added bonus was the thousand-year Hellfire War; with the Watcher’s avoidance and revulsion towards the True Nether and its inhabitants, it was a lawless, abandoned land, free from their viewing and intervention. As such, the main demon-populated City of the True Nether Core was heavily industrialized and self-sustainable, built to defend against and drive out any Voidwatcher armies- or, Watchers forbid, any Watchers themselves- who try to attack. Grian is almost sure that even if the Watchers were allowed into the True Nether, they’d be too stuck-up to go near it.

With the Nether Demon population’s generally good view of humans and hybrids, it would be a good place for the Hermitcraft members to escape and settle in to, if worst came to worst.

X’s hand stills, and he leans forward across the table, a decided expression on his scarred face.

“You’ll have to take Tango, then. I’m sure he’s the only one here who can reliably navigate that place. I’ll tell Ximusa to go with you, too- I don’t suppose you remember much of the Endless End?” 

Grian shakes his head no, face flushing slightly with embarrassment. During all of his five years as a Watcher, he hadn’t spent any time outside of Regalia and Mojsius’s territory. There wasn’t any reason, really- he was busy enough training in magic, and while Mojsius probably trusted him to explore in the last year of his stay, Regalia had likely out-argued him in favor of keeping Grian contained. As always. She always got her way.

Xisuma continues. 

“About what I expected. I suggest you take one trained fighter, too- Wels, False, or Doc?” 

“Doc,” Grian answers. He knows the cyborg better. 

“Tango, Ex, and Doc. One more of your choice.” 

Grian leans back in his chair. He’d choose Mumbo, but the man’s a spoon and would probably find some way to hurt himself with his own weapons. Besides, he thinks he might cry if he was stuck with the other’s stupidly fancy mustache for an entire journey. Next was Iskall, then, who was pretty good with a sword.

He tells himself it’s not because it would hurt more to lose Mumbo.

“Iskall,” he decides. 

Xisuma snorts. Grian bets he knows exactly why he didn’t choose Mumbo. X picks up his helmet and stands up. He rises, too. 

“I’ll tell them, then,” the admin states. Grian almost turns to leave, but the other motions for him to wait. 

“Grian,” Xisuma starts. His expression is grave. 

“As much as I want five people gone and back…” Grian fidgets with his hands; he thinks he knows where this is going. 

“If you lose anyone, I don’t want to see you return.”

-

Grian fiddles with a thick, padded turtleneck sweater. Navy blue and made of Watcher-woven fabric, it was constantly cool, yet extremely warm in the End’s cold grasp. It was one of the few garments he had worn in the cold Deep End, and what he had escaped with. With a sigh, he slips it on over the long-sleeved shirt he had on, ignoring the guilt he feels at the removal of his red sweater, sitting disapprovingly in a neat, folded pile on his bed’s pillow.

He had forgotten about the wing slits in the back. The scars and snapped bones in his own back seem to burn at only the thought of them. Watchers above, if he wants any of it back, he wants his wings.

He remembers his initial hesitance to use elytra, scared that the familiar feeling of being above  _ everything _ would drag him back down.

His inventory is filled with supplies; shulkers upon shulkers full of rockets and tools and potions, food to last a month, maybe two.

He hopes it’s enough.

-

A few hours later, and he’s flying across the shopping district, the streets brightly-lit and friendly even in the darkness of the dusk settling upon the server. As he makes his way towards a small grassy hill on the edge of the district, he can see all of the travellers- Tango and Doc looking over a map while Iskall chats with Mumbo, Ex standing off to the side where he seems to be talking quite animatedly to Xisuma. From his aerial view, he can see a few other people who seem to be there as well to see them off, Scar holding Jellie and Joe leaning against a tree. 

His friends. Who he may be leading to their deaths. He feels sick, but he hadn’t eaten anything earlier.

Touching down, he’s almost trampled when Mumbo runs right into him, scooping up into a bear hug. Trying to wriggle out of it, he laughs in embarrassment when he realizes that Mumbo’s so tall, his hug picks Grian right off of the floor. His feet can only just barely touch the grass when he stretches.

He’s not short, he swears; Mumbo’s just unnaturally tall. 

Grinning, he tugs at the other’s hair when he starts really needing air, Mumbo letting him fall to the ground with a  _ thump _ . Standing up, his tawny eyes meet Mumbo’s brown, and he notices with a jolt that the redstoner looks… worried. Padding forward until their chests almost touch, Mumbo brushes some hair out of Grian’s eyes, hand coming to rest on his cheek. His other hand holds Grian’s in a tense grip.

“Mumby? What’s wrong?” Grian questions, head tilting to the side. Mumbo rips his eyes away from where had been trained on Grian’s, then looks back almost frantically. His eyes dart across Grian’s face like he’s trying to memorize it before he sighs, letting go of Grian’s hand and face in favor of pulling him into a softer hug. 

“Be safe, Grian. Please,” Mumbo whispers softly, breath tickling his ear. Distantly, his mind registers that Mumbo’s shaking. Grian lets out a shaky amused huff and wraps his arms tight around Mumbo, fisting his hands in the other’s suit jacket. He never wants to let go. 

“Promise,” He whispers back, and feels like a liar. 

They stand there like that, clutching to what they might lose. 

A loud snort breaks the moment. 

“What, I’m not invited?” 

Grian smiles wryly, burying his face in Mumbo’s shoulder as he feels Iskall come up behind him and wrap his arms around the two smaller figures.

Next to him, Mumbo says something quietly. 

“Iskall, group hug, lol?” 

Iskall squeezes them tighter. “Of course, lol.” 

Grian loves his family so much. 

  
  


That is, until Iskall steps back, holding the two tight, swaying the dead weights back and forth- 

And Grian panics, because  _ even though Iskall was shorter than Mumbo, he was stronger than the two others combined- _

Grian is thrown softly to the grassy ground a few feet away, landing on his backside.

“ _ Hey _ !”

His expression must be  _ hilarious _ because Iskall immediately bursts into deep-chested laughter, and as Grian sees Mumbo’s own shocked, indignant expression, grass stuck in his hair and dirt smudged onto his face… 

Iskall’s laughter is infectious, and he soon finds himself giggling too, watching as Mumbo tries to keep a dignified expression while hand-combing grass out of his hair. It grows funnier when he misses a few pieces, giving up and chuckling too. 

A hand brushing his shoulder brings him out of his staring, and he looks up to meet Iskall’s emerald-green eyes. 

He’s never really taken the time to appreciate how pretty they were, he thinks absently as he shifts his weight, placing a hand in the offered one. Distantly, he chides himself for grinning like a dope, but Iskall’s doing the same, so he doesn’t think he can be blamed for too much. 

A tap on the back of his head snaps him out of his reverie, and he finds himself blushing with embarrassment as Iskall pulls him up quickly. 

He turns to see Ex, face unreadable behind his helmet. He’s wearing a thick black cloak over his armor, made of much the same material as the sweater Grian’s wearing, and holding what looks to be two more. 

Passing one to Grian and the other to Iskall, he nods toward the lit Nether Portal set up not too far away. 

“We’re going soon.” 

The architechs’ smiles fall. Everyone around the portal seems to be wrapping up their conversation; trading goodbyes, hugging each other, though Xisuma is unusually alone- he would have thought the admin would be eager to spend some time with his clone. Grian hadn’t noticed; he wishes he had more time.

A brush of his hand against the inside of the cloak he’s put on reveals two massive deep pockets on both sides; Grian can see how they’d be immensely useful for hiding weapons or invaluable health potions. 

A cursory glance at Ximusa’s reveals that his are overflowing with snack-size Chex Mix bags.

Of course.

Noticing his gaze, Ex’s shoulders tense with excitement. He grabs a bag and practically shoves it in Grian’s face, seemingly uncaring when several more fall out at the disruption. 

“Want one? Xisuma ordered ‘too many’!” There’s genuine excitement in his voice as he buzzes with energy, shaking the Chex-Mix in front of Grian. 

It’s really intimidating. 

Grian chuckles nervously as he nudges the gloved hand back in the direction of the madman.

“Nnn...No thanks.” 

He hopes that isn’t  _ hurt _ he sees behind Ex’s visor.

-

Everyone stands silent around the portal. The time has come, and it’s so… 

Scary. Terrifying. He wants to go back to his base and sleep.

On Grian’s left, Iskall takes his hand; when Xisuma brushes by, he gives Grian’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before taking his place right next to the Nether portal.

Tango, Ex, Iskall, Doc. It’s a good team; they’d be okay.

It’s time.

Tango, Ex, Iskall, Doc.

Grian turns his head to take in what he has to lose (From a few feet away, Mumbo sends a thumbs up and mouths  _ love you _ )- the Hermits, the world, his family-

And steps through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell :) 
> 
> catch me on tumblr @fishsoop!

**Author's Note:**

> like and subscribe :)
> 
> catch me on tumblr @ fishsoop


End file.
